Jesus Christ is Risen

My Girl in a Wheelchair Poem as Celebration

When I was singing in the choir at Easter Vigil Mass last night at St. Bernadette’s in Hedgesville, VW for two and a half hours, the celebration included the baptism of a young girl in a magnificent white dress.

She reminded me of another young girl I saw 10 years ago in a similar white dress in a wheel chair who was playing violin along with my son at a church violin concert in Frederick, MD.

The girl in a wheelchair playing violin that night so stabbed my heart I grabbed a small pencil in the pew and many church envelopes and scribbled down the poem below. Audiences seem to enjoy it when I read it so I offer it below in the Spirit of Christ’s Resurrection, the central event of all world history.

Girl in a Wheelchair

I see a little girl

In a wheelchair

And Jesus-like,

I want to say

To her gently

“Arise and walk!”

And disappear

Before she or her family

Can thank me

But I am not Jesus.

I am only a very flawed man

Who has seen enough of life

To know beautiful little girls

Are confined to wheelchairs

And other beautiful little girls

Die of cancer

Or in car accidents

And in house fires.

Life is like that

Happiness and tenderness

Leave like laughter in Spring

But tragedy

Lurks like terrorists

In the background

Denying too much joy

In cruel Winter

Always remember

The violin also

Plays loud and joyously

In the background

God’s music in rhythm for you

Appears even in a wheelchair

And children’s cancer wards

Celebrate the child

Recognize the crippled

Or cancer condition

But sing Creation’s praise

Despite the endless drumbeat

Of horror and death

In the media

And Internet digital wall

LIFE, LIFE, LIFE

Continues

Repeated

Like a heartbeat

To the gift of Life

And Life Eternal

A symphony of sound

Harmony and flesh

Life is here

Life is present

Life demands your time

Because the grave waits

Quiet and certain

In the distance

Little girls in wheelchairs

And in cancer wards

Ask not your pity or praise

But your everyday

Because they have never known

Everyday like you

But you

Being you

Being not confined

To a wheelchair

Or cancer ward

LOOK UP

LOOK Up

LOOK UP

Even when the pain

Is accidently present

In every pore

Enjoy the current laughter

The newborn baby’s demands

And the violin concert

That screams to you again

YOU MUST LOVE

YOU MUST GIVE

YOU MUST HOPE

Jesus-like, and here is the Mystery,

Even though you are not Him.